blood, war and a touch of love
by xakemii
Summary: All Draco's ever known is blood. He's thrown into war. And Astoria Greengrass? She turns up everywhere whether Draco likes it or not.


Written for Dra (Dramione Forever) on the Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2013.  
Thanks to Sylvia (Budapest All Over Again) for looking over this for me.

* * *

1991 (Greengrass Residence)_  
_

Draco regards the garden with disdain—not because he dislikes the garden itself (although, he can't deny having noticed that this garden is not nearly as well-kept as his own), but because he still can't believe that he's going to have to spend the next hour here. Daphne is, as far as Draco can tell, far too quiet for her own good and completely unable to carry conversation.

They're walking around the (awful) garden and Draco can _feel_ the expectations of his father, despite him being miles away. A good relationship with the Greengrass girl would benefit him, he'd said. Translated, Draco thinks that means, "you'll be married to her one day."

That thought is enough to make Draco want to off himself.

"So, you're liking Hogwarts?" she asks for the tenth time, her fingers nervously picking at the hem of her dress.

Taking a deep breath, Draco answers (also for the tenth time), "Well enough."

This time, however, she seems determined to keep the conversation going and she presses, "I really love it. The classes are _so_ interesting and all the professors are incredible." She looks sideways, forcing a smile before saying, "And everyone in Slytherin seems nice. Well, everyone in our year seems alright, really."

"Not _everyone_."

She laughs nervously. "Oh. I heard about your...uh, thing with Potter and Weasley. But they seem nice, don't they?"

Draco isn't entirely sure what _nice_ has anything to do about it. He tells her so, adding, "Some wizarding families are better than others."

She's too polite—too well trained—to look disgusted, but Draco can hear the disdain in her voice when she replies, "Yes, that's what my father says."

"You don't agree?"

"I do."

But it sounds rehearsed and Draco pushes, "Pureblood families."

"Yes," Daphne replies. "Of course."

Her voice is shaking almost as violently as her hands and Draco has feeling that she'll never be able to look anyone of great importance in the eye, considering how horribly timid she seems. He wants to push further and tell her what his father has told him. He wants to make sure that once they get back to Hogwarts, she's not going to embarrass the whole of Slytherin house by spouting rubbish about equality.

As a side thought, he wonders whether he ought to ask his father to have a word with hers...just to make sure she gets it.

He opens his mouth to question her apparent doubts when he's interrupted by a squeaky voice. "Can't you see she's uncomfortable? Leave my sister alone."

Daphne closes her eyes. "Astoria, please..."

Astoria, who's shorter than Daphne by miles and looks ten times as annoying, has suddenly appeared under a white arc that's laced with vines. She's wearing a white dress with, much to Draco's disgust, a large red bow wrapped around her waist.

"Polite people don't just waltz in and start spouting off about politics," the young girl snips, glaring at Draco. "Especially when it's clear that the other doesn't care for the topic."

Draco can feel anger rising within him and he subconsciously goes to reach for his wand. Daphne notices his change in demeanour and she grabs his arm, pleading, "Don't, please. It's fine. She's only nine; she doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Sounds like she does," Draco snaps, eyeing the younger girl.

"That's because I do," Astoria replies shortly. As it turns out, she's not only more annoying than her sister, but also ridiculously cocky, and even when Draco narrows his eyes menacingly, she doesn't drop her gaze. "I'm clever for my age. Everyone says so."

And because he doesn't know any other nine year olds that use words like 'spouting' and 'care for', Draco thinks she's probably telling the truth. He releases his grip on his wand, but even clever brats need to warned, so he says, "Polite people, clever or otherwise, don't interrupt others' conversations."

If it was meant to scare her off (and with the glare he'd added to it, it definitely was), it didn't work.

"You shouldn't pretend to be clever," she says, unfazed and with her head cocked to the side. "Also, please refrain from making my sister uncomfortable in future."

Daphne's biting her lip, feeling absolutely mortified, but looking at her little sister with a newfoundfondness.

The conversation doesn't continue further, mostly because Draco is completely lost for words, but also because Astoria's flounced away without further comment before Draco has the ability to find any.

That's the first time Draco has the pleasure of speaking to Astoria Greengrass.

* * *

1992 (Greengrass Residence)

The garden, Draco notices, hasn't improved since his last visit. He almost wishes it was a beautiful garden. At least then he might have a decent distraction from Daphne's never-ending and pointless chatter. Knowing her for yet another year hasn't made conversation with Daphne any easier or any more interesting.

"I think this year's been terrifying," she's saying.

Draco thinks he prefers last year's Daphne, who could barely say a word to him without trembling. Now she feels almost comfortable around him and talks and talks and _talks_.

"At least we got in a few classes without that horrid Mudblood."

Daphne frowns for a moment and it's so fleeting that Draco, had he not remembered last year's conversation and noted a few awkward situations in the common room, almost misses it.

"That's an awful term to use."

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

Draco would recognise that voice anywhere, despite it having grown a year, and he groans.

"Still listening to your father, are you?" Astoria asks.

He turns, somewhat hesitantly, to face her and spits, "Still think you're clever, do you?"

He really should've asked his father to talk to theirs. Maybe that way they wouldn't be well on the way to becoming Muggle lovers. There's no one to blame but himself, really. Draco makes a mental note to definitely speak to his father this year, because he's not entirely sure he can handle two Muggle lovers in Slytherin; it's been bad enough with Daphne and she's decidedly less outspoken than her sister.

"I am clever," she replies, making her way towards them, blue skirt swishing. "That's how I know all blood's the same."

"That makes you stupid, not clever."

Daphne, frantic as ever, tugs on Draco's hand and gives her sister an exasperated look. "Don't do this, please. Astoria, honestly, what would Father say if he heard you saying such things?"

Ah, so it's not the father that needs talking to, Draco observes. Perhaps the mother, then.

"Fine." Astoria stops in her steps and turns on her heel, but she takes a moment to look back. She simply says, "One day you'll realise I'm right, Malfoy. And one day, sis, you won't hide that you agree."

Needless to say, her second impression on Draco Malfoy isn't a hell of lot better than her first.

* * *

1993 (The Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry)

Draco can't begin to understand how on earth Astoria Greengrass managed to get herself sorted into Slytherin house. He'd expected it, if only for her last name, but watching her skip around around the common room only highlights how different she is. She'll be cut down to size soon enough, he thinks.

It's at dinner, two nights later, that he realises that Astoria truly has been sorted out by her fellow housemates. Daphne slides next to him on the bench, her eyes full of worry.

"Astoria's not acting like herself," she tells him. "She's acting all—"

"Proper?" Draco asks lazily. "I told you Hogwarts would be good for her. She'll have forgotten about her silly theories and she'll become exactly what your father wants. You won't have to listen to your mother and father argue about her anymore. Isn't that what you want?"

"I didn't want her spirit crushed," Daphne argues, timidly nibbling at the meat she's forked onto her plate. "It's just, she's always been so clever and certain of herself, ridiculous theories and all. And you know what she's like, loud and brilliant...she hasn't been loud or brilliant since coming here."

Draco secretly thinks it's for the best, but he can't very well tell Daphne that. Instead, he settles for saying, "Maybe Hogwarts is just helping her be the person she's meant to be."

Daphne hums her agreement, uncommitted. "Maybe, but I doubt it."

* * *

1993 (Slytherin Common Room, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry)

"Your sister tells me your spirit has been crushed."

Astoria looks up from where she's reading on the sofa, surprised at Draco's approach. With a resigned sigh, she places her book to the side and says, "It's easier to keep quiet about my views. Apparently a lot of people around here are like you...listening to their fathers instead of using common sense."

"We're right."

She rolls her eyes. "If you insist."

Her stubbornness is getting old. It's infuriating. And while it's brilliant that the girl's got the sense to keep her trap shut around others, just knowing that she's still believing nonsense is a pain in his backside.

"There's a war approaching," Draco says eventually. "At least, that's what Father says. You'll want to be on the right side, Greengrass."

"I will be."

* * *

1994 (Diagon Alley)

Draco only says hello to them because his mother tells him to. They, Daphne and Astoria, are on the other side of the street, lingering beside an alley opening. Daphne seems as calm as ever, but Astoria's using wild hand gestures and talking slightly too loud. From where Draco's standing, it's clear they don't wish to be interrupted.

But his mother ushers him forward and so he finds himself standing in front of the two girls, clearing his throat in order to make his presence known.

"Draco," Daphne greets him pleasantly, silencing her younger sister with a stern look. "How are you?"

"Excellent. How're you?"

Astoria glares at him stonily as Daphne begins to tell him of their holidays in an animated fashion. He's more than content to be silent and listen with the occasional nod, just as he usually does, when he catches sight of a shocking purple creeping under the sleeve of Astoria's cloak.

"What's that?" he asks, interrupting Daphne mid-sentence and pointing at Astoria's arm. When neither reply, he asks again, "What happened there?"

Astoria tugs her sleeve down. "It's nothing. Father doesn't appreciate my views on blood purity, that's all."

And that's the second time Astoria Greengrass leaves Draco completely and utterly lost for words.

* * *

1995 (The Library, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry)

"You're really horrible to Hermione Granger."

Draco doesn't have to look up to know who's talking to him. He keeps his eyes trained on his book as he snippily replies, "I'm trying to study."

"You think you're better than her because you're a Pureblood and she's not," Astoria pushes, slamming her books on the table he's sitting at in an attempt to gage his attention. "I think it's pathetic."

When Draco doesn't have anything say to that, she continues, "She's smarter than you. She's _better_ than you."

"She isn't!" Because really, that was pushing it. Draco glares at Astoria, annoyed that she's managed to get a reaction out of him more than anything else. After a few moments of silence, he levels Astoria's challenging stare and says, "It's all about hierarchy. Once you figure that out, you'll be better off."

"If you say so."

* * *

1997 (Greengrass Residence)

"Don't ask me about school," Draco says quickly, before Daphne can get her ever predictable conversation starter in. "I'll say something and your sister will jump out and attack me."

"I've never attacked you."

If asked, Draco will tell you that he most certainly didn't jump when Astoria appeared behind him. Daphne, however, will tell you that he most certainly did.

"You know what?" Daphne says with a laugh. "I need to visit the ladies'. Try not to kill each other in my absence."

Draco could kill _her_ for this. He's known Astoria for a total of six years and within that time, he's never managed to have a conversation with her that hasn't ended in blood purity, war or threats.

Astoria's seated herself in a garden chair, swinging her legs. "You, or rather your father, was right about the war."

Already. She's mentioned the war _already_. They haven't even been alone for one minute!

"Remember in my first year? You told me there's a war coming and that I needed to pick a side."

He cringes. He doesn't want to talk about this. He doesn't want to talk about war. Why does everyone want to talk about war? Why does Astoria insist on questioning everything he's been raised to believe in?

She picks at the laced hem of her dress and quietly murmurs, "I've picked my side."

"Don't."

"I _have_." She sounds desperate, as if no one's ever listened before and she needs someone to understand. "And it's not the side you've picked. It's not the side Father's picked. It's not the side Daphne'll be bullied into picking."

"Don't tell me this."

Astoria's smart. He's never wanted to admit it before, but he knows it's true. Smart girls don't tell their enemies that they're going to fight against them.

So he amends his statement to, "Why are you telling me this?"

She bites her lip; she knows she's been made. "I've heard rumours about you. And I've rumours about your family. I just...I just think it's important for you to know that you can change your mind. You can change sides. You can be someone else, Draco."

The black snake curling its way up his arm tells him otherwise.

* * *

1998 (Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry)**  
**

There's red, green and blue flying everywhere. Screams are bouncing off falling bodies. Draco isn't sure where to look.

Except he does, because a flash of blonde hair catches his eye and he can't help the plummeting feeling in his stomach when he identifies said blonde as the one and only Astoria Greengrass.

She's under heavy fire—three against one. It's down to her smarts that's she's been able to stay alive, but even Draco can see she's beginning to falter.

Her eyes lock on to his and an unasked question hangs between them: _Aren't you going to help me?_

He can't. Death Eaters—his side—are all around him. He can't risk everything just to help a girl who shouldn't even be fighting. He briefly wonders how she even got here to begin with, but he shrugs the question off, just as he shrugs off the guilt he feels as he walks away.

When he crosses the courtyard to join his family and his _side_, he wonders if Astoria's watching. He knows she's probably dead (and he knows that would be his fault), but he wonders all the same.

And when the fighting breaks out again and his mother tugs him away...when he changes sides, because he's sick of death, blood and war, he wonders if she'd be proud of him, even if it did take him seven years to figure out that Daddy's not always right.

* * *

1998 (Malfoy Manor)

When Daphne Greengrass comes to visit, Draco knows he's in for a long afternoon. She sits opposite him, sipping the tea she'd been offered in a silence that's brim-filled with tension. And when she speaks at last, Draco rather wishes she'd stayed silent.

"You left my sister."

It's not an accusation. It's a fact. She's said it bluntly with no malice...only questioning.

"I'm sorry."

She looks at him, bewildered. "If I hadn't arrived when I did, she would've been killed."

"I know."

"And you just left."

For the first time since she'd arrived, Draco looks at her. He properly looks at her. He takes in a fading scar on her cheek and her matted fingernails. And, with some degree of despondency, he realises that she has the same haunted eyes as all those who fought do. She's not the Daphne he used to know. She's changed.

War does that people, he knows.

"You never even came to find out if she survived," Daphne continues. "Did you just not care whether she made it out alive? Were you afraid she'd be dead? Weren't you brave to face her, knowing you'd left her to die?"

"I knew she was alive. She wasn't on the list."

He wants her to leave. He wants to wallow in this post-war mess by himself. He doesn't need people charging in and demanding answers for his actions. Merlin knows he doesn't have any. And he doesn't need people like Daphne reminding him how he much he failed. He knows he failed. He_knows_.

Apparently, the pain shows because Daphne deems him pathetic enough to leave alone.

But she's not done yet and before she leaves she spits, "She's actually proud of you. Keeps saying that she always knew you'd switch sides. The girl you left to die is _proud_ of you. How sick is that?"

* * *

1998 (Diagon Alley)

"You're very brave."

Draco leaps out of his skin and with that, almost drops the hood that's so carefully covering his telltale hair and face. He turns, careful to keep his face covered.

"I'm not brave."

She laughs, tugging at his elbow and urging him into the nearest café. "You're one of the most hated wizards in society at the moment. To be out and about is very brave."

It's the first time he's seen Astoria since the war and, after looking her up and down, he's pleased to see that she looks good—better than her sister, at any rate. There's a an eerie aura about her, just as there is everyone else, but she doesn't look nearly as broken as everyone else. In fact, he imagines that if she tried, she could almost pull off looking _happy_.

He's not ready to see her. He hasn't had time to prepare. But he knows he has to say _something_.

"Look, Astoria—"

"Oh, don't," she interrupts. "Please don't. I'm just glad that you came to your senses."

"But—"

"I _know_." She looks at him, pity in her eyes. "I know. And it's okay. I'm alive. Daphne's alive. You're alive. Everything worked out in the end."

"Alright. Well..." he trails off.

"We should get something to eat," she offers, nodding at a passing waitress and taking a seat at a free table. "And then you can tell me all about how rubbish your life's been since Harry offed Voldemort."

"Harry?" Draco questions, taking the seat opposite her. "First name basis?"

"Not really," she replies. "But is there any other Harry?"

"I suppose not."

She grins. "Come on, then. How've you been?"

* * *

1998 (Greengrass Residence)

"You've been spending a lot of time with my sister," Daphne says, arching her eyebrow at him.

"I have," Draco agrees. Then he sighs. "Daphne, I know I shouldn't have left her, but things have changed since then."

"I know. Things have changed. You've changed. I really don't care, but if hurt her again, I will kill you. No doubt about it."

The scary thing is that Draco knows that timid Daphne is serious.

"So," Daphne continues, forcing a smile on her face. "Astoria says you're going back to Hogwarts for your seventh year."

"And she'll be there for her sixth."

Daphne smiles, genuinely this time. "Maybe this time Hogwarts can help _you_ be the person you're meant to be."

"Fat lot of good it did last time," Draco replies with a scoff.

"It'll be different this time. This time you'll have Astoria."

* * *

1999 (The Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry)

Whoever said that the war would end prejudice was obviously a complete idiot. Everywhere Draco walks, snarky comments about purity and his father follow. It's infuriating and every time he manages to make his way down a corridor without hexing someone, he silently congratulates himself.

"Just ignore them," Astoria murmurs, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

She's the only one in the whole of the hall who's proud to be sitting at Slytherin table and wearing green.

Draco's hand is, as always, itching for his wand. When he finds Astoria's hand instead, he doesn't pull back.

* * *

2000 (Owl Post)

Draco,_  
_

Hogwarts hasn't fallen apart without you, I'm sure you'll be pleased to know. Nothing much has changed, actually._  
_

Malcolm Baddock keeps trying to ask me out and Romilda Vane never stops asking me how you are. She really fancies you. And, since you're never going to marry my sister, like your father had intended, maybe you ought to consider asking Romilda out some time. I'm sure she's much more bearable after a few moments of conversation.

Astoria

.

Astoria,

And your head girl duties? How are they going?

Baddock's an idiot. And Vane's even worse. They'd make a good pair. More to the point, why on earth would I want to date her? She's awful.

Draco

.

Draco,_  
_

Well, you haven't dated anyone since Pansy._  
_

Astoria

.

Astoria,

Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me. Really. You've brains to rival Granger's and you use them to track my dating life?

Draco

.

Draco,_  
_

I think you mean your complete lack of dating life._  
_

Astoria

* * *

2001 (The Leaky Cauldron)

Alcohol is something Draco's become very familiar with in the past three years. It seems fitting to welcome the turn of the century with an old friend. He intends on spending his final moments in the twentieth century drinking and with Leaky Cauldron's newest barmaid, Hannah Abbott, who refuses to look him in the eye.

But, as it turns out, one of the few things that can overcome hatred and confusion is the prospect of awkward silence and Hannah's quick to strike up conversation.

"Neville tells me you're good friends with Astoria Greengrass," she says. "I'm surprised you're not with her celebrating the new year."

"She's with Malcolm Baddock."

Hannah hums. "Boyfriend?"

"Yes. But she could do better."

At this, Hannah laughs outright. "Meaning that you'd rather she was dating you."

Draco shrugs. "She makes me who I'm meant to be."

* * *

2001 (The Leaky Cauldron)

"I can't believe he dumped me," Astoria snaps. "Six months of my life! Gone! Wasted!"

She's not upset; Astoria's never upset. She's angry.

Draco, on the other hand, is completely neutral, for once in his life. "You were always better than him."

Astoria narrows her eyes at him. She's not an idiot; she knows she's better than Malcolm bloody Baddock. Unfortunately, that only further fuels her anger. How dare he dump her? If anything, she should've dumped him.

"Oh, go away, Draco," she says eventually. "You wouldn't understand."

* * *

2002 (Greengrass Residence)

Although Astoria would like to think otherwise, Draco's not a complete idiot. He knows that ever since Baddock dumped her, everyone (really, _everyone_) has been waiting for him to make his move.

Tonight's her birthday and he fully intends on (finally) asking her out. It's time for their relationship to progress, he thinks. It's the natural process. Well, there's that and he's come to realise that just being around her affects his ability to think straight and every time he sees her he desperately wants to hide her away somewhere because men _everywhere_ seem to love flirting with her.

He's sure she'll say yes. She's his best friend and he knows her better than he knows anyone else. She likes him, he's sure of it.

Even so, it's not nearly as climatic as he thought he would be.

He takes her to the side and says, "You make me who I'm meant to be."

She laughs. "That's a horrible confession, Draco. Truly terrible."

But she knows what he means so he smiles, wrapping his arm around her waist. "I know."

* * *

2023 (Malfoy Manor)

Scorpius is seventeen when he approaches his father and asks about love. It's a horribly awkward conversation and Scorpius has never been so horrified in his life. Draco tries his hardest not to show his discomfort, but not even the best parenting books had prepared him for this and he feels cheated and caught off guard.

"Is there someone in particular?" Draco asks hesitantly. Then he quickly shakes his head. "No, never mind. Not important."

His son breathes a sigh of relief. "I just need to know."

"You want to know if it's real."

Draco rubs his temples. He'd known this day would come eventually. Scorpius was bound to fall madly in love with someone eventually and there was always a chance that he would go his father for advice. Draco had, however, expected a warning of some sort. He'd wanted to have the answers ready, the way his father never had, and he wanted to have the _right_ answers.

Eventually, he settles for the saying the only thing he's ever said. It's not about blood. It's not about war. It's not even about magic.

He just says, "If you're a better you when you're around them. If they make you the person you're meant to be. Then it's real."

Draco looks down at the single photo on his desk. His image grins back at him. Astoria's head is resting on his shoulder and in front of them both is Scorpius, who's rolling his eyes, but smiling all the same. It's nothing like he'd ever expected, but he doesn't mind.

Draco's happy. Astoria's happy. Scorpius' happy.

And he finds that he doesn't really mind that this isn't what he'd expected. In fact, he thinks he rather prefers it this way.


End file.
